Revenge
by Corinth
Summary: Someone with a grudge against John Munch hurts Casey in order to break John. JC, EOish. Please R and R!
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing.

A/N: Here is the promised JC story. Sorry it's a little later than I said. I don't know what's with me and making John worry about Casey recently...it's just so cute! And there are so many Elliot saving Olivia stories, so I feel the need to add JC to the mix. I hope you like this one!

* * *

John Munch inserted his key into the lock, peering up at the pinkish evening sky that was threatening snow. He did not care either way if it did snow, but his fiancée loved it, and anything that made her happy was fine with him.

He had not seen her for almost four days as the result of the avalanche of cases that the sixteenth precinct had been dealing with. She also had been flooded with work, as was often the case. Sometimes it became nearly impossible to find time to spend together, but they did their very best. Neither could stand being away from the other for too long.

As John entered the apartment, he was surprised to find it completely dark. "Casey?" he called curiously, wondering if she had just fallen asleep reading or something. There was no reply so he went to her room and looked in. She was not there.

"Casey!" he said again, going back into the living room. It was then that he saw a piece of white paper on the coffee table. He grabbed it and sat down on the couch to read it, turning on the lamp in the process.

_Hey babe,_

_I went running. Back soon! I miss you!_

_Love, Casey_

John stared at the familiar handwriting for a second, rolling his eyes. Only Casey would go running in near freezing temperatures when it was probably going to snow. He was sure that was the reason she went in the first place; if there had not been the possibility of snow, she probably would have stayed in.

He did not begrudge her the run, even thought he was dying to see her. He and the rest of the detectives ran all day, chasing down perps. When she was busy with cases, Casey hardly got to go outside at all. She deserved to expend some energy, even in the middle of winter.

John got to his feet, shaking his head and laughing. Casey was so obsessed with rain and snow. She had always been quite the tomboy and could not care less about inclement weather messing up her hair or her makeup, what little she wore. In fact, she told John they were going to get married outside…and that it would be a November wedding so there was a good chance of some sort of precipitation.

He went into her kitchen and sat down at the table, pulling the newspaper toward him and folding it open, preparing to wait for Casey to get back. They did not have any specific plans, but it would be great to just be with her, talk to her, and hold her. He was always amazed how a few days of separation felt like months. He had never felt like that with anyone else.

John had just found an interesting article when his phone rang. He groaned aloud, knowing it could be nothing except work. Casey did not take her phone with her when she ran, and no one called him except the other detectives, Cragen, and Casey.

Glancing at the caller I.D., he saw that it was the captain. He flipped open the phone and without preamble said, "The perps do this on purpose, don't they? Just when we finish—"

"John," Cragen interrupted him, and John immediately tensed up at his tone of voice. He sounded very solemn, and very worried. That was never a good sign.

"What's up?" John asked with a sigh, standing up and retrieving his coat from the back of Casey's couch. He would have to write her a note, and he was just looking for a pen when Cragen spoke.

"Where's Casey?"

John stopped dead. "Running. Why?" Cragen was silent for too long. "Cap, why?" John asked again, feeling fear rise within him.

"Get down here, John. I was just walking out the door when I saw this envelope addressed to me propped against the wall, and it had your card in it. It said, 'Find her before it's too late.' There's a diamond ring too…."

His voice trailed off, but John was not listening anyway. He shut the phone and sprinted out the door, down the stairs, and prepared to hail a taxi. However, at that moment a car pulled up in front of him and Fin opened the door.

"Come on," he said before John had the chance to say a word, and John got in without a question.


	2. Chapter 2

Fin pulled onto the road and sped off to the precinct. John did not even ask how his partner knew where he was. Everyone was aware of the fact that John practically lived with Casey; he had even before he asked her to marry him several months before.

John stared out the windshield, his face inscrutable as always, but the whiteness of his knuckles was evidence enough of his fear.

"There's no proof it's her," Fin said after a few minutes, but John did not reply. He would not be calm until he saw the ring and determined that it was not hers. Actually, he would not be calm until he wrapped his arms around her. But he was sure it was her. There was no other reason that his card would show up alongside an engagement ring, and there was no other explanation for the dread that had settled in his heart. He could feel that something was wrong.

A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot at the one-six and jumped out of the car. Both men ran to the doors and wrenched them open, hurrying into the bullpen where Cragen, Olivia, and Elliot were already waiting.

"Let me see," John demanded, his voice shaky with nerves. Cragen wordlessly handed him the ring, not even bothering to tell the detective to put on gloves to handle the evidence. Everyone waited with baited breath as John took the small silver band in his right hand and looked at it.

Hardly two seconds after he started examining it, John had proof of the horrible truth he had known all the way over to the stationhouse. "It's her," he said softly, continuing to stare at the ring even after it became blurry. He took several deep breaths, not knowing what to do. He could not believe it…his worst nightmare had come true.

"We need to send it, your card, and the envelope over to forensics," Cragen said gently. "I'll make sure they give the ring back to you as soon as they're done with it."

John nodded mutely, gazing at the ring for a few more seconds before he dropped it back into the envelope. The small thud it made somehow upset him more than just looking at it had.

"Do you want to go to the lab?" Cragen asked.

John shook his head. "I'm finding the crime scene."

"Ok. Elliot, Olivia, go down to the lab. Light a fire under their asses."

The two of them headed for the doors, and John finally looked at them. Elliot looked incredibly worried, and there were tears in Olivia's eyes. She was closest to Casey, after John. As she passed him, she squeezed his arm but she did not offer any words of encouragement. John knew she did not want to lie and promise him that they would find Casey. Everyone present knew they might, but they might not.

John did not realize Cragen was talking to him until he heard the words, "This case is too close to you."

He shook his head again. "You're not taking me off the case."

"John—"

"No. I can't just sit by and do nothing."

Cragen sighed, but John did not even bother waiting for his approbation. He would work the case whether the captain liked it or not. "She runs in the park by her house." Without another word he left the stationhouse, Fin hurrying along in his wake. Cragen would alert the crime scene unit and other uniforms.

John slumped down in the passenger seat of Fin's car and tried to steady his heart. He would be no good to Casey if he had a heart attack. On the other hand, he did not know what he would do if he found evidence that she had been injured in the park. The sight of her blood would be enough to drive him into panic.

"Any idea who did this?" Fin asked as they approached the park.

John shrugged. "It could be anyone she's prosecuted, or a relative, or someone we tried to help but couldn't get a win for."

"But who knows about you guys?"

John stopped, completely baffled. As far as he knew, only the other detectives, Melinda Warner, George Huang, and Cragen were aware of their relationship. He and Casey were very careful, and very discreet. "I have no idea," he admitted, his despair deepening.

Fin threw the car into park and accepted the flashlight John handed him from the glove box. They set off into the park which was silent and still. Everything had the muffled feel that accompanies snow, and John was unsurprised to see flakes beginning to drift down. They heard sirens in the distance, telling them that CSU, other police, and an ambulance were on their way. The ambulance was just in case, but John knew it to be unnecessary. There was absolutely no way they were going to find Casey in the park.

John and Fin split up, each heading in a different direction around the circular path. It was a huge area for two men to cover alone, but there was no way either of them was going to wait around until everyone else arrived.

John swept his flashlight across the ground, looking for any signs of a struggle in the loose gravel. He could not decipher anything from the chaos of footprints and bike tread, but he was at least confident that he would be able to distinguish any marks that were out of the ordinary. He also had the advantage of knowing the victim, and he knew she would never go off the path willingly.

He searched fruitlessly for several more minutes before he heard the sound of many vehicles pulling up behind him. He did not even bother going back to brief them; they all knew what they were looking for.

"John!"

John's eyes snapped in the direction Fin's voice had come from, and he ran along the path, his trench coat flapping in the crisp air.

Fin was standing to the right edge of the path, his flashlight trained on the ground. John crouched and saw what were unmistakably body drag marks. "Let's go," he said sharply, trying hard to keep his demeanor professional and keep it all together for Casey. He made to lead Fin into the dense foliage just off the path, but Fin stopped him.

"I'll go first," he said, averting his eyes from John's. The older man stiffened, knowing Fin was concerned about what they would find, and how John would react.

"Just go," he replied, somewhat unkindly, but he did not mean it. He was just scared out of his wits. He hoped Fin would understand.

They picked their way through the bushes and tree trunks, looking out for anything unusual. About twenty feet off the main path Fin stopped, throwing his arm out and catching John in the chest. "Go back," Fin ordered him, but not before John saw all the blood.


	3. Chapter 3

John pushed Fin out of his way, stumbling forward as though he was blind. The dry leaves that littered the ground were stained bright red. Several small pools of blood shimmered in the beam of John's flashlight and Fin's light illuminated a tree trunk with a red smear some five feet above the ground. A grey zippered sweatshirt lay tattered on the ground.

John dropped his flashlight but was unable to move away. The light came to rest with its beam pointing directly at the sweatshirt. "That's mine," John said, gasping for breath. "I mean, it's hers…I gave it to her…the NYPD one…."

He reached behind him for anything to support him and his hands found another tree trunk. He slumped against it, his eyes closing as he struggled to breathe. "Oh my God…oh my God," he said over and over, unable to calm himself. "It's so much blood…there's no way she'd be alive after losing so much."

He felt himself being led away from the horrific scene and back onto the path. "Take it easy," came Fin's voice, but he sounded almost as upset as John was.

John leaned over, his hands on his knees, trying to stop his head from spinning. He barely noticed the crime scene analysts going by him; he could think of nothing but Casey, his Casey, and he would have remained frozen there for a lot longer had one of the paramedics not approached him.

"It's Casey?" a man's voice asked, and John straightened up to find himself facing Philip Weber.

Weber had dated Casey for almost a year, and as such John hated the guy. He was not sure how they even met because a paramedic and an ADA did not cross paths often, but he knew that Weber asked her out. John did not know him at all, but from what Casey told him, he felt he had enough cause to dislike him. Weber sometimes drank heavily and he was prone to losing his temper.

Weber's eyes were filled with fear that John imagined almost matched his own. Despite the fact that Casey was the one who broke off their relationship, Weber told her he still cared about her and he wanted them to be friends. He looked absolutely terrified at the prospect of Casey becoming a victim.

"Yes," John said shortly.

"Oh God," Weber muttered, shaking his head. He then looked at John in concern. "You ok? You look terrible."

John rolled his eyes. "What else would I look like after seeing…that?"

Weber's medical side took over. "Come with me," he said, leading John to the ambulance and making him sit down. "You're pale." He gave him a glass of water and made him put his head between his legs.

John took deep breaths for a few minutes, trying to ignore the words from the analysts. He was aware of Fin talking on his phone, probably to Cragen, but he could not focus on what was being said.

"Was it…really bad?" Weber asked John.

John shuddered involuntarily. "Yeah." He did not know what he was feeling. Casey could not still be alive, and yet he did not feel the horrible emptiness that he would have expected. His entire body was in agony, but he was not empty. Not yet.

At that moment, Doctor Warner came up to him. John's head snapped up so he could look into her eyes. "Well?" he asked desperately.

Melinda sighed. "The good news is that all that blood is not Casey's."

John stared at her, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Fin stop talking to Cragen and listen. "What?" He hardly dared to believe it.

"It's not all human blood. We don't know exactly what it is yet…probably pig. Whoever did this wanted to scare you more than anything."

Anger such as he had never felt surged within John and he saw nothing but red. The bastard who was hurting Casey was torturing him too. He was a diabolical maniac who obviously had something against John. "What the hell?" he said to Fin. "It's like he'll do anything to Casey as long as it hurts me too."

He turned back to Melinda just as a technician approached. "You identified the sweatshirt, correct?"

John nodded mutely, relieved that Casey was most likely still alive but so afraid of what she would have to endure.

"Do you recognize this?" the man asked, holding something out to John.

He took it and held it up, recognizing it immediately. It was the necklace that Casey almost always wore- a simple silver chain with a small prism hanging from it. "It's hers too," he said, reluctantly dropping it into a plastic evidence bag.

"We'll get it back to you as soon as we can," the man said kindly. Everyone there was by then aware of John's connection to the victim. Their relationship was hardly a secret anymore, at least in the NYPD.

Fin finally hung up and came over to John. "Cap wants us back at the house."

John followed him without a word, walking away from the crime scene but taking every bit of the horror with him.


	4. Chapter 4

Neither man spoke all the way back to the precinct. John glared out the window, his heart beating a violent tattoo against his chest. He hoped Casey was not cold. He realized how ridiculous it was that he was concerned about that, of all things, but he did not want to even consider what else might be hurting her. All he knew for sure was that it was snowing, and she did not have his sweatshirt.

In contrast to an hour previous when he and Fin were moving at lightning pace in their fear and desperation, now the two could hardly move at all, much less sprint. They trudged into the bullpen, eyes downcast. John immediately collapsed into his chair and Fin leaned against his desk, staring at the floor.

Olivia and Elliot came in, equally silent. They stood next to John who looked up when Cragen came over to them all. "What'd you get from forensics?" he asked tiredly.

Olivia shook her head. "Nothing. The only prints were Casey's." She handed the ring back to John who clenched it in his fist, breathing hard.

"He made her do it herself," he said icily. "He made her take the ring off and put my card in and everything."

"She's gotta know he's gunnin' for you as much as her," Fin put in angrily. The others looked at him in confusion, and he explained the trick with the blood at the crime scene. "Someone's pissed at John."

Cragen glanced at his watch. "Everyone get out of here. There's nothing else we can do right now."

The detectives all looked at him like he was crazy, but John said, "You expect us to rest when Casey's missing?"

"What do you propose we do, John? We have no prints, no leads…they have dogs trying to track her but we all know he's not slinging her over his shoulder and running; he's got a car. They'll lose the scent at the street." He put a comforting hand on John's shoulder. "If this guy really does have something against you, he'll give us a clue. And he'll probably keep her alive."

"It might be better if he didn't," John said coldly, but he got to his feet anyway. He knew Cragen was right. There was nothing they could do but wait. He hated that. He could not stand to abandon Casey when she was scared and in pain.

John could tell he was about to cry and he refused to do so in front of the others. He turned and went up to the roof, closing the door behind him and walking over to the wall. He rested his hands on the ledge despite the snow, leaning over to watch the city below him. His eyes darted around as though he was hoping to see Casey amidst the bright lights.

He realized that he was still holding the ring and he held his hand open, palm up, to look at it. The white diamond reflected the countless lights of Manhattan. It looked beautiful, but it did not look right. It was just a ring unless it was on Casey's finger.

A few tears rolled down John's face and landed on the inch of snow on the ledge, melting little holes through to the cement. He could not even imagine the sick bastard who would hurt an innocent woman just to get back at him for something. He hated more than anything that Casey was in the middle of it.

Finally getting himself under control, John put the ring in his pocket and kept his hand there too so his fingertips could constantly brush against it. He went back into the bullpen, expecting to find it empty, hoping to find it empty, but Fin was still there, sitting at his desk.

"Ready to go?" he asked, and John could not help smiling at his partner.

"Yeah. Thanks." He was so grateful to have Fin. Fin often complained about being John's chauffeur, but he did not really mind.

They returned to the car and Fin started it up. "Your place or hers?"

"Hers." He did not think he could handle being in his apartment. It might hurt to be in Casey's, but at least he could be in a bed that smelled like her.

When they reached her building, Fin said, "I'll pick you up tomorrow."

"Thanks," John said again, getting out of the car and waving. He then went slowly up the stairs, unlocking her door for the second time that day but with none of the happiness he had felt earlier. He locked the door and flipped the light switch on the wall, bathing the living room in a dim glow. He noticed an envelope on the floor, identical to the one that had been delivered to Cragen.

Without wasting a second, John bent and snatched it up, tearing it open and removing its contents.

He fell back against the door, sliding down it until he was sitting on the floor, shaking violently. The top sheet was a photograph of Casey.

She was lying in the snow, obviously unconscious. Her skin was tinged with blue and streaked with red. She was wearing only a sports bra and sweatpants, and her stomach bore the marks of a violent beating. There were bruises and cuts, and her arms were similarly brutalized. Only her face seemed untouched, and if John looked at nothing else, she just appeared to be asleep.

He was not sure how long he stared at the horrifying image; he simply could not look away. Finally, however, he noticed the second item from the envelope. Forcing himself to set the picture of Casey aside, he saw that the paper was a note.

_Detective Munch,_

_Looks pretty bad, doesn't she? Somehow I couldn't bring_

_myself to do anything to her face. It's just too beautiful, _

_don't you agree? Well, this one should be right up your_

_alley…rape, torture…all in a day's work. Don't forget_

_that this is your fault. You are the reason Casey has to_

_suffer. Don't worry. I promise I'll let you find her, and_

_me, eventually. I just don't know what kind of shape she_

_will be in. Keep up the good detective work, but don't_

_even bother sending the picture and this note to your lab._

_They won't find a thing, I assure you._

John stared at the words for ten minutes as though he was trying to make them change into something less ominous, but of course nothing happened. Part of him wanted to look at the picture of Casey again, to try and find some evidence that the picture was fake or something, but he knew it was not. It was completely and horribly authentic, and it was only the beginning. And the man was going to rape her….

He quickly stood, setting the photo and the note face down on a shelf by the door. He went into Casey's kitchen and poured a huge glass of gin, preparing to drink himself into oblivion. He raised the glass to his lips and was about to take a sip when he decided he could hardly be more selfish. Casey had no choice but to deal with what was happening to her. He could not be there with her, or instead of her, as he wished he could, but he was not going to abandon her completely by making himself forget the truth and pain.

He poured the gin down the drain, the strong smell making him slightly light-headed. Getting out of the kitchen and away from temptation as quickly as he could, he went into Casey's room and shut the door, falling fully clothed onto her bed. He buried his face in her pillow, breathing in the scent of her hair and almost feeling her beside him.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Ok, a few things. First of all, thanks for the reviews! Also, I just wanted to let you guys know (if you care) that I finished this story yesterday and there will be seventeen chapters. Ok, and then the best part! Oh my gosh! I was looking at pictures on msn movies and there are so many of Diane Neal and Richard Belzer together! Like, an inordinate amount! And I'm somewhat elated...but I don't know why. They're both married in real life, but I don't know. I'm just happy that they are friends, I guess. The pictures are so cute! You should go to movies. and look up Diane Neal. Do it now!

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John hardly slept at all that night, and every time he did manage to drift off for a few minutes he was promptly greeted by the image of Casey, battered and broken, and he would jerk upright, breathing hard. Returning his head to Casey's pillow soothed him somewhat, but he wished he could listen to her breathing as he did whenever he could not sleep. He wondered if he would ever hear her breathing again.

As soon as the sun rose John gave up trying to sleep. He rose stiffly, rolling his neck several times, and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. The evidence of his near-breakdown was still sitting beside the sink, and he put the gin back in the cupboard, rejecting it once and for all.

He wandered aimlessly around the apartment for close to an hour, waiting for Fin to come by. He ran his fingers over everything, wanting to feel Casey more than anything. He found himself close to tears several times, especially when he saw a picture of her. There was one on her mantle of herself along with Olivia and beside it was one of Casey smirking at Elliot after she beat him at softball.

The one that hurt him most, of course, was the picture on the table next to Casey's bed. In it, she and John were embracing in front of a sunset, the wind whipping strands of her hair across her face. She looked absolutely beautiful, and every time John looked at the picture he felt so lucky to have her love. He did not think he was good enough for her, but she obviously disagreed, and he was endlessly thankful for that. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

John's phone beeped and he knew it was Fin telling him to come outside. He took the picture and note without looking at them and went downstairs to the car.

"How you doin', man?" Fin asked, eying John's haggard appearance.

John shrugged, but did not respond. He held the papers in one hand and Casey's ring in the other, but he did not mention the former to Fin. He would tell everyone at once. It was too much to relate more than one time.

At the precinct, the detectives gathered solemnly and waited to be briefed by Cragen. However, the captain appeared to have nothing new for them…not that they had truly expected a big break or anything.

When there was nothing else to do, John cleared his throat. "This was at her apartment last night," he said, handing the note and photograph to Cragen.

He saw Cragen's eyes get wide and Fin's jaw drop, but he said nothing more. He watched as they all read the note, their expressions morphing from fear to anger and back again. He saw that Olivia could not tear her eyes away from the picture of Casey even though she was crying and shaking. Elliot noticed and pulled Olivia to his chest, forcing her to stop looking at the evidence of what was happening to her friend.

"Get this to the lab," Cragen finally said in a voice not his own.

Elliot looked at him. "Cap, you read the note…and we didn't get a damn thing last time. He knows what he's doing."

"Just take it, damn it!" Cragen said loudly, fixing Elliot with a stern gaze as though daring him to argue.

Elliot shook his head but took the envelope and its contents and headed for the door, his arm still around Olivia. They all knew the effort was pointless, but Cragen was never good at doing nothing. None of them were, really, but as captain he felt responsible for their inaction.

As soon as the two of them were gone, Cragen sat down weakly. "Who hates you this much?" he asked John, a shaky hand covering his eyes.

"I wish I knew."

"We'd better hope they don't hate Elliot too," Cragen said, acknowledging Elliot and Olivia's relationship aloud for the first time. "Keep an eye on her until the case is closed."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Fin said, "It couldn't be a CSU guy, could it?"

The two older men stared at him. "You mean because he's so good at not leaving evidence?" John asked. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out wearing gloves is a good idea. And I don't think any of those guys have it in for me."

"What about that guy who talked to you last night? The one with the necklace? He coulda waited until you weren't about to pass out before he asked you about it. Maybe he wanted to see you suffer."

They waited for Cragen to respond. Finally the captain said, "Let's go ask him."


	6. Chapter 6

They met up with Elliot and Olivia at the lab, but no one even asked them if anything of value had come from the note or photograph. Everyone present knew nothing had.

Cragen briefed Elliot and Olivia on their suspicions, and asked, "What's the tech's name?"

"I think it's McCready," Fin said. It ended up not mattering, however, because at that moment the man in question turned a corner and started coming toward the detectives.

"Detective Munch!" he said with a smile. "I was just about to call you. Here's the necklace." He held it out to John who took it wordlessly. "Do you have any leads?" McCready asked, looking between them all.

"We were about to ask you for help," Elliot said with the misleadingly kind smile he reserved for perps.

McCready sighed. "Sorry, I don't think I can. No prints on the necklace, and no fibers on the sweatshirt. Your guy knows what he's doing."

"That's what we were thinkin'," Fin said, taking a step toward the tech and giving him a menacing look.

"You don't think…." He stared at Fin for a second. "You think _I_ did this?"

"Where were you before you got called to the scene last night?" Cragen asked, likewise taking a step forward. Little by little the man was being backed into the wall.

John did not say a word. He did not think he would even be able to form a coherent sentence at the moment. As soon as McCready had handed him the necklace, John started examining it, just as he had the ring. It was strange to see it not around Casey's neck. He stared at the refracting light, only half-listening to the interrogation.

"I was home!" McCready said, his eyes growing wide. "Look, you've got to believe me…I had nothing to do with this!"

"Nothing against Munch?"

"Of course not! How could I? I hardly know him."

"Can anyone corroborate your alibi?"

McCready nodded, obviously relieved they were giving him a chance to explain himself. "My daughter. She lives with her mom but she stopped by so I could look at her essay for college applications. I had to leave her there when I got the call."

"We'll need to talk to her."

McCready jotted down a number on the back of a scrap of paper and handed it to Cragen, looking nervous. His eyes then went to John. "Detective Munch," he said shakily, "I would never hurt anyone. And I'm truly sorry about what your fiancée is going through."

John nodded, stowing the necklace in his pocket alongside the ring. "Thanks," he said, turning and leading the group back out to their cars. "It's not him," he said over his shoulder, and the chorus of sighs let him know that they agreed but were not happy that their one idea had fallen through.

When they arrived back at the precinct, another envelope was waiting for them. John ripped it open before anyone else had the chance to say anything and he removed the contents.

On top was a picture of Casey's back which was bruised just like the rest of her, but there were welts across her spine like those from a whip. After seeing that, John could not stop tears from forming in his eyes and streaking down his face. "God DAMN IT!" he yelled, slamming his fist on the desk and handing the picture to Cragen who took it, breathing hard through his nose.

"Casey," Olivia whispered, unable to hold back her tears either.

It was too much for all of them to see their Casey, the youngest member of their team, in such pain. They had all seen worse injuries on other victims, but those vics were usually dead. Casey's were quickly becoming the worst they had ever encountered on a living person.

"We know one good thing," Elliot said softly, and everyone looked at him, wanting him to give them any little piece of hope. "Look at her skin. It's not blue anymore. He's keeping her warm, at least, so she won't die of exposure."

"What else is in there?" Olivia asked weakly, indicating the envelope that lay forgotten on John's desk.

He quickly pulled out the second sheet of paper and found it to be another note.

_Detective Munch,_

_You've got your woman trained well, congratulations._

_She keeps begging me to leave you out of this, not to_

_hurt you even if it means she'll get hurt worse. Well,_

_that was when she had the strength to talk. I wonder_

_if she still has the strength to write? Let's see. If not,_

_knives are pretty good incentives. Oh, and I told you_

_that you wouldn't get a thing from the last envelope I_

_sent. Why did you even try? I hope you're enjoying_

_this as much as I am!_

Then, in handwriting that took John a few seconds to realize was Casey's, was written:

_I love you, John_

It was almost illegible; it was so faint and unsteady. John could not believe how diabolical the man was. He forced Casey to write what he knew would affect John the very most, effectively shattering his heart into a million pieces.

All the others read the note too, but no one could find the words to express their utter outrage and dismay. No one spoke until Olivia said, "There's something else." She reached for the envelope and held up a small piece of paper the rest had not even noticed. "Four five nine west Ames Street," she said, and they all went back to their cars before Cragen could even give them instructions.


	7. Chapter 7

The address led them to a warehouse that they entered warily, guns drawn. John did not tell his fears to anyone, but he was more than half expecting to turn a corner and find Casey dismembered or hanging by her neck from the rafters. He could hardly breathe and, for the first time in his memory, his hands were not steady around the butt of his gun.

Suddenly Olivia shouted, startling John so badly that he almost pulled the trigger. "Over here!" she called, but John knew better than to hope that she had found Casey alive and well. Her tone was not horrified enough to mean that she stumbled upon Casey's dead body, but neither was it calm.

John hurried over, meeting the rest of the detectives and their captain by Olivia who was kneeling in a corner. "Blood," she said softly, surveying them all.

"I'll call CSU," Cragen said, stepping away and flipping open his phone.

"How much?" John tried to ask, but all that came out was a grunt.

Olivia seemed to know what he meant, however, because she gave him a small, encouraging smile. "Not too much," she said. She sighed, holding a folded piece of paper out to John. "This was on the ground."

John opened the note and read, again in the spidery handwriting that was, unfortunately, from the same hand that usually wrote so differently:

_John,_

_I'm so sorry about all of this. I miss you. That's_

_what hurts most right now, that and the knowledge_

_that you are scared. I'm sorry. I wish I was there_

_with you. John, if I don't make it, don't forget me._

_I love you so much._

John rested his forehead against the cold metal wall of the warehouse, fresh tears leaving frozen tracks on his skin. He was trembling so violently he could hardly stand, but he could not allow himself to fall; he knew that, if he went down, he would never get up again.

The detectives had never been more somber. No case had ever been harder than this one; nothing could have prepared them for the pain of one of their own being taken as another member of the squad was so tortured by the incident that they were losing him as well.

"That manipulative bastard," John finally managed to say, breaking the silence that hung like death over the detectives. "She can't really think…I'd forget her?"

"Of course she doesn't, John," Olivia said, placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing.

John turned around to look at her but he could see nothing but the awful images of Casey. He felt like he was about to vomit and he moved away from Olivia. "I've got to get out of here," he muttered. "I'm going crazy."

Intertwining his fingers behind his head, he went outside into the frigid air, welcoming the wind that cut him like a knife. Physical pain was so much more bearable than emotional and mental anguish, and it was somewhat distracting. He sat down heavily on a rock overlooking the grey Hudson and allowed himself to be numbed by the weather. His face felt like a mask as a result of the tears that dried there, but he did nothing to change it. He could not move; he could not believe he was still breathing.

None of his fellow detectives came to him, but he knew without looking that they were watching him, almost as worried about him as they were about Casey. He did not want to add to their pain so, after one last glance at the river, he returned to the warehouse.

No one said anything about his meltdown; indeed all of them bore signs of their own grief and trepidation.

"The blood was Casey's," Cragen finally said.

John nodded. Of course it was. There had never been any real doubt that it was not, but they still followed procedure and got it checked out by the crime scene analysts. There was nothing else they could do.

"Let's get back to the house," the captain ordered, regarding all his detectives with concern. The case was tearing them all apart and they had been worse for the wear anyway after working nonstop for four days before Casey was abducted.

John's hand went back into his pocket and felt for Casey's ring and necklace. Even with his eyes open he could see the look on Casey's face when he slid the ring onto her finger and asked her to be his wife. It had been the happiest day of his life. Now she was being tortured, and it was all his fault.


	8. Chapter 8

They waited around for another envelope for the rest of the day, no one speaking. Cragen tried to get them all to rest in the crib but none of them would do it. John did not think he would be able to sleep anyway. He never could at work because of the tension that was always thick in the air, but with Casey missing it was out of the question. There was absolutely no way he would be able to turn his mind off enough to fall asleep.

Cragen finally sent them home. He first stopped by Elliot's desk where he and Olivia were sitting, her head on his chest. Ordinarily Cragen would have told them to keep it out of the workplace, but at the moment such rules were the last thing on his mind. "Go with Elliot," he told Olivia, obviously still somewhat worried that the other woman of the unit would become a target.

Olivia nodded and allowed Elliot to take her hand. They went out the door after saying weary goodbyes to John and Fin.

The captain then came to John. "If there's an envelope at Casey's when you get there…if I begged you not to look at it, would you listen to me?"

John shook his head. "Sorry, Cap. I have to know what's going on."

"Even if you can't do anything about it and it's just going to upset you?"

"Yes," John said, getting painfully to his feet and preparing to leave. He was about to go out the doors when Cragen spoke again.

"John. At least look at other pictures of Casey too. That's an order."

"Ok."

Back at Casey's apartment, there was indeed another envelope waiting for John. He held it in his hands for several minutes, just looking at his name. What good could opening it possibly do? All there would be was another gloating note and probably another photograph of Casey. Even the address had been nothing valuable…they found a note from Casey that did nothing more than break everyone's hearts, and then there was the blood. They all knew she had lost blood. Further proof was unnecessary.

John stood in agony for almost twenty minutes, debating the pros and cons of opening the envelope and facing what it held, before he gave in. Logic pointed to him just throwing the whole package away, but he could not make himself do it. He had to look.

Tearing open the package, knowing that his choice was the more idiotic of the two, he fearfully reached inside.

There was nothing there. Peering into it, he saw that it was indeed empty. He was momentarily confused before he realized the truth. The perp sent another envelope just to torture him. He knew John would struggle with the decision to open it or not, and the entire inward battle had done nothing but exhaust John further.

He crumpled the envelope into a ball and dropped it on the floor, breathing heavily. "You son of a bitch," he whispered.

Kicking the ball aside, he walked around the couch and sank down onto it, dragging a blanket over him. True to his word to Cragen, he pulled out one of Casey's photo albums and started looking through it.

As always, when he saw pictures of Casey as a child, he warmed up to the idea of having kids. He never even really considered it before Casey; there was no one else he wanted to mix his genetic material with. He smiled wryly, thinking it would behoove any child of theirs to take most of their traits and tendencies from Casey rather than him.

At the very back of the album were the most recent pictures, and the ones with the most memories attached for John. They all brought tears to his eyes, but the one of Olivia and Casey hugging as Olivia held Casey's hand with the newly adorned ring finger was too much for him to handle. He set the album aside, willing himself not to break down.

His head was spinning from the effort of holding his tears back and every breath was painful because of the tightening in his chest and throat. He looked around the empty apartment. Who was he staying strong for? He was all alone.

Giving up, John let his abject misery overtake him. Violent sobs wracked his body as he cried harder than ever before. Clenching his eyes shut, he allowed himself to lose every pretense of control and sink into the darkness that had been eating away at his soul since the whole horrific saga began.


	9. Chapter 9

John told everyone about the malicious trick the perp had played on him and they were all furious at the lengths the man was taking to torture John. His face was more drawn than it had ever been before and he looked ten years older. It was a frightening transformation.

"What happened to dealing with the person you have a problem with?" John asked quietly, sinking down into his chair. "Why drag her into this?"

No one had an answer.

The detectives passed the morning in tense silence, jumping at every noise and getting up ever half hour or so to make coffee that nobody was drinking. Cragen did not retreat to his office as he so often did; somehow they all knew that they needed to stick together, even if they could not do a thing to help the situation. They needed each other.

A little before noon, Cragen's phone rang. The detectives' eyes all followed him as he went to his office and picked up the handset, saying, "Cragen." He was silent for a few seconds but his eyes got round. "Thanks," he finally said.

He hung up and snatched his trench coat from the back of his chair. "Let's go," he said, and John's heart leapt at the possibility that they had a lead.

"Captain," he said sharply, needing to hear the explanation.

Cragen looked around at them all. "Two boys were playing outside near their house and they saw a beat up woman in a ditch. She was white with reddish-blonde hair."

It was the strangest sensation John had ever experienced: absolute rapture to hear that Casey had been found, but horrible swooping fear at the same time. Dump jobs were usually dead. "Where?" he choked.

"Apparently there are two ditches near the house and the boys can't remember which one they saw her in. Traumatized. We'll split up. John, Fin, you take the south one. It's farther away from the neighborhood. I'll go with Elliot and Olivia to the other." He gave them the cross streets and they took off without wasting another second.

All the way to the neighborhood, both Fin and John struggled to maintain their equanimity as jubilation and fear assaulted their senses. "It's freezing outside," John said worriedly, taking in the frosty coating on the road.

"Maybe she hasn't been there long," Fin said, and he caught John's eye. John saw his own alarm mirrored back at him.

When they arrived at the southern ditch, they saw that the ground was too uneven to take the car any farther. "Come on," John said, getting out of the car and abandoning it. Fin followed him and they started running alongside the ditch, their eyes searching desperately for Casey. It occurred to them both that a body would be hard to miss, but they still did not become complacent in their hunt.

The cold air pierced John's lungs like a knife as he panted for breath but that only served to make him run even faster. His pain was nothing, and Casey was freezing.

John was so driven to find Casey that he soon left Fin far behind. Ordinarily, Fin could beat John in a race with hardly any effort, being almost fifteen years younger, but nothing could hold John back when Casey's life was at stake.

His lungs were burning, his knee was threatening to give out on him, but he continued. Suddenly, something broke the monotony of pristine whiteness in the ditch. The sight spurred John on and when he was twenty feet from it, he could finally see clearly.

It was Casey.

He ran all-out to reach her, jumping into the ditch and stumbling only slightly on the landing. In a matter of seconds he was at her side, his heart beating wildly and his breath coming in sharp gasps.

Being that close to her, knowing they found her, was not enough to calm him; in fact, he only fell deeper into panic. Her skin was as pale as death.


	10. Chapter 10

"GET OVER HERE!" John shouted, dropping to his knees in the snow and reaching for Casey's wrist. He pressed his fingers against her chilled skin, praying as he never had before that he would find a pulse…and he did, though it was so weak he had almost missed it.

"She's alive," he said to no one in particular, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around her bruised and bloodied body. He heard movement behind him and said, "Call a bus."

Fin did as John asked and then knelt beside him, adding his coat on top of John's. "Be here in a couple minutes," he said. "Cragen, Elliot, and Liv are on their way."

They could do nothing but wait for the ambulance. John did not like leaving Casey lying in the snow, but he was worried about broken bones or any other injuries that might be aggravated if he moved her. He took her hand in his, however, unable to let go of her now that they finally found her. He could not believe it. None of them had dared to hope that she could still be alive.

"Stay with me, Casey. Come on, come on. Hang in there." He gently ran his thumb over her pale skin in an effort to keep her there with him. He actually had no idea what he expected his words and touch to accomplish, but he could not stop either one. "Hang on, Case."

The sound of approaching sirens assaulted their ears and an ambulance pulled up as near as it could to the ditch, followed by several police cars. Cragen and his two youngest detectives darted out of one, hurrying over to the edge of the ditch.

"Is she…?" Olivia asked breathlessly.

"She's alive," John said, reluctantly getting out of the way as the paramedics scrambled down the side of the trench to get to her. "But barely."

"Hopefully she'll be able to tell us who did this when she wakes up," Elliot said, breathing hard, and everyone present noted his use of the word 'when' instead of 'if'. John appreciated it.

"We're lucky our perp slipped up," Fin added, looking down at Casey at the paramedics strapped her onto a backboard, just in case. "I don't think he wanted us to find her alive. Something musta happened so he had to drop her here."

John agreed, though he did not say so. He followed the paramedics back to the ambulance, finding himself beside Weber. Loathe though he was to talk to Casey's ex-boyfriend, he knew that Weber would have a much better grasp of Casey's condition than he possibly could alone.

"I'm riding along," he announced to the rest of the squad, climbing into the back of the ambulance and sitting across from Weber. "How's it look?" he asked tensely, his eyes never leaving Casey's face.

"I'm sure she's got hypothermia…possibly shock from the pain and cold…." His voice trailed off as he started checking for broken bones. "Broken ribs," he continued, looking at John.

"But she'll live, right?"

Weber's eyes moved over John's face for a few seconds as the detective waited in agony for the answer. "There's no way of knowing yet," he finally replied after John was about ready to scream from the pain of waiting.

John nodded at the female paramedic. "Could you check if she was…if she was…raped?"

The woman rose to do as he asked, but Weber shook his head. "No, I'll do it."

Both John and the woman stared at him for a second, but neither said a word. John watched, his fists clenched so tightly they hurt, as Weber lifted the waistband of Casey's sweats just enough that he could examine her. John felt like he was hyperventilating, partly out of fear of what Weber would find and partly because he hated to see another man that close to Casey, even out of medical necessity. It was also hard because John suspected Weber was not seeing anything he had not before.

"Doesn't look like he did it," Weber finally said, taking in John's rapid breathing. John nodded, letting out a breath. He closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them, he saw that Weber's hands were still under Casey's sweats.

"What are you doing?" John demanded.

"Just checking," Weber responded vaguely, moving his hands onto Casey's stomach and tracing a few of the cuts and bruises. "She sure is beautiful. I bet your perp's pretty disappointed that he never got to rape her."

Something inside John exploded. The next thing he knew he had Weber by the throat and was holding him against the wall of the ambulance. "What did you just say?" he asked softly, his voice dripping with hatred. It was all so obvious to him now.

Weber grinned at the detective. "He would have made it good for her. She's got to miss not having to fake it with an old man. Does she have a thing for father-figures or something?" His eyes darted to Casey and then back to John. "I made her scream my name," he whispered. "She begged me for more, and when she ended it, I never got to give it to her one last time…and that's your fault."

Neither of them realized that the ambulance had come to a halt or that the other paramedic was watching them from her place beside the oxygen tank, frozen by fear and confusion.

"You piece of shit," John said, tightening his grip around Weber's throat.

"I only regret," Weber choked, the insane light never leaving his eyes, "that I didn't get to fuck her…until she cried from the pleasure…and I left her…for you to find."

John threw Weber down on the floor and slammed his fist into the man's face. He was just about to connect again when the ambulance doors were thrown open and he heard Fin yell, "John!"

Two pairs of arms pulled John off Weber and out of the ambulance, restraining him as he fought like a madman to get back to killing Casey's attacker. "That son of a bitch; I'LL KILL HIM!" John shouted, unable to calm down despite Cragen yelling at him and the shocked expressions on the faces of the nurses and other bystanders.

Weber got slowly to his feet, his eyes never leaving John's, even when Elliot slapped handcuffs on him and hurled him up against his car. "Philip Weber, you are under arrest…" Elliot began, but John was not listening. He watched helplessly as Casey was wheeled into the hospital, doctors and nurses speaking frantically about her condition. He finally stopped fighting Fin and Cragen and slumped down, completely enervated after the emotional upheaval he had just experienced.


	11. Chapter 11

John paced the waiting room, walking past Fin and Cragen again and again. Elliot and Olivia had taken Weber to central booking and would return as soon as they could, but it made no real difference who was at the hospital and who was not. There had been no word on Casey's condition.

Thirty minutes later a doctor finally approached the three men, carrying a clipboard. John immediately accosted her, demanding, "How is she?"

The doctor took John's arm and led him back to Cragen and Fin to tell them all the news at once. She addressed her words mostly to John, however, apparently deducing that he was the most concerned party. "We've stabilized the three broken ribs. She's severely dehydrated and has hypothermia. Her temperature was ninety-three when we measured it. Hypothermia is generally not deadly until the body temperature is below ninety, but had she been exposed for much longer, it may have been too late." She continued, "We're removing her blood to warm it and then replacing it, along with a blood transfusion because of her blood loss. She has mild to severe internal hemorrhaging from being struck with blunt objects; based on the shape of some of the bruises, we're guessing a metal pole of some kind."

John leaned back against the wall, his legs threatening to give out. The doctor looked at him with concern, but he shook his head. "Go on."

"She's suffering from hypovolemic shock, but it did not progress to the point that cell death or organ failure are major concerns. She's stable and should make a full recovery, but we're going to keep her here for a few days, just until we get everything under control and she gets her strength back. She's still unconscious, but she'll be waking up soon." She lowered her voice and said, "We did a rape kit as well. No signs of vaginal trauma and no fluids."

John let out a breath he did not realize he had been holding. "Thank you," he breathed, feeling a smile break across his face for the first time in days. It was over. There was no permanent damage. "When can I see her?"

"In about twenty minutes. I'll come get you. When she wakes up she'll be dizzy and nauseated and possibly incoherent. We've got her on pain medication."

"Thank you," John said again, sighing. He sat down, more exhausted than before. Now that Casey was out of danger, he did not have adrenaline to keep him going anymore. Everything that had happened over the past two days hit him full force and he could hardly keep his eyes from falling closed.

By the time the doctor came back to bring them to Casey, Elliot and Olivia had returned. She led them to Casey's room and let them all go in, despite it being against hospital regulations to have so many visitors at once. They were cops and had been through the unthinkable.

They all sat there for close to an hour, basking in the wonderful knowledge that Casey was alive and would recover. The steady beeping of the heart rate monitor along with the sound of Casey breathing was enough to lull them all into peace.

A while later, the doctor returned to say that they should all rest and that she really could not let them all remain. Everyone but John got to their feet. "Can he stay?" Cragen asked the doctor softly.

"Of course."

John smiled as Olivia kissed Casey's cheek and Fin kissed her forehead, saying, "See ya later, baby girl." The four of them told John they would come back later and he thanked them all.

"Go get some rest," he said to them. "And thanks."

"Of course, John," Elliot said, and they left.

Thankful to finally be alone with Casey, John moved his chair closer to the bed and grasped her hand. He was grateful for his team and how much they cared about Casey and about him, but he wanted to be with her…just her.

"Thank God you're ok, Case," he whispered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out her ring, sliding it carefully onto her finger once again. He smiled at it fondly, caressing her fingers with his thumb and squeezing her hand gently.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I know everyone's glad Casey's ok, but I've got one more twist in store in a couple chapters! Dun dun dun...

* * *

Casey woke up a few minutes later. Her eyes fluttered open and she struggled for several seconds to focus on anything, but then she heard a familiar voice say, "Casey?"

She turned her head toward the voice, ignoring the stiffness in her neck, and a huge smile spread across her face. "John!" She held her arms out in a wordless request for him to hug her. Her joints were sore and she winced slightly at the pain from her bruises, but she would gladly endure a great deal more if only John would hold her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he leaned down to her, smiling just as broadly as her. She kissed his neck and hair over and over, closing her eyes at the feeling of his chest against hers and his hand tangling itself in her hair.

She breathed deeply, taking in his familiar smell. She had not expected to ever see him again. Weber did not tell her his plans, and she just assumed he would kill her when he was through with her. "John," she said again, releasing him and falling back onto the pillow.

He was smiling at her and she saw that his eyes were shining. "I'm so sorry, baby," she said, reaching up and running the tips of her fingers along his face. He looked exhausted.

"_You're_ sorry? God, Casey, I wanted to murder whoever was hurting you. We all did."

She looked into his eyes. "Did he send you the things I wrote?"

He placed his hand over hers, apparently struggling with his reply. "John?" she prompted.

He sighed heavily. "Yeah. He also sent pictures of what he was doing to you."

Casey's jaw dropped. "Pictures?" she murmured. She pulled his hand to her lips and kissed his palm. "I'm sorry. That must have been so horrible for you." She looked down for a second, then she said, "He didn't…um…rape me, did he?"

John shook his head. "Didn't get the chance, he said."

"You talked to him?"

"We had words in between me strangling him and punching him."

Casey's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to smile. "Who the hell was idiotic enough to leave you alone with him?"

"We didn't know he was the perp _until_ I was alone with him. He decided to gloat to me."

Casey closed her eyes. The whole ordeal had, of course, been awful for her, but she was beginning to see just how bad it was for John as well. She would never forgive Weber for hurting John so much. "Well, I'm glad he didn't rape me. I did tell him he'd regret it."

John raised his eyebrows at her. "Oh yeah? Why?"

She smirked. "Oh, I may have told him that I have syphilis, gonorrhea, herpes, chlamydia, and several hepatitis letters including my own inventions, hepatitis XXX and hepatitis R.I.P."

"He didn't believe you, did he?" John asked with a laugh.

Casey shrugged. "Probably not. It was fairly obvious that I was extemporizing."

"You know," John said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles, "the doctor told me you might be incoherent."

"I'm a lawyer. We can't afford to be incoherent." She closed her eyes again. "I am tired, though," she admitted.

"Go to sleep. I'm right here."

"Join me."

"I'm fine."

Her eyes snapped open. "Just get down here, John," she ordered, indicating the space on the bed next to her. "They probably don't even care. How would you sleeping next to me inhibit the healing process?"

He shook his head. "I promise I'm fine."

She rolled her eyes, perfectly aware that he was worried about somehow hurting her even though she failed to see how he possibly could. "Fine." She glanced down at her arms, taking in the bruises and cuts, and her eyes fell on her left hand. She spun the ring around her finger once, smiling. "I missed you," she said to it.

"Hey. You're making me jealous."

She turned to John. "I really really really _really _missed you," she told him. She entwined her fingers with his and brought their joined hands to lie on her breast.

"Casey," John said softly, and she looked at him expectantly. "Did you have sex with him?"

She stared at him. "Philip?" she asked incredulously, raising both her eyebrows.

John nodded, and it was clear to her how much the question was weighing on him. "No," she said adamantly. "No. Never."

"He said you did."

"He wishes we did," she replied, rolling her eyes. "John…I was never in love with him. I don't take the phrase 'make love' lightly."

"So you only have sex with people you love?"

"Don't you?" He laughed quietly, shaking his head. "Before you, Casey, I didn't just sleep with women I didn't love. I married them."

She laughed too, but his self-deprecating tone broke her heart. "Never again, right?"

"Right," he agreed. His ran the fingers of his free hand through her hair several times. "I love you so much, Casey."

"I love you too."

He smiled. "Good. Now go back to sleep."

"Fine," she said again, obediently closing her eyes and drifting off with the comforting weight of his hand over her heart.


	13. Chapter 13

Casey was released from the hospital four days later with orders to rest and be cautious of jarring her ribs. After a brief reprieve another case had come to the unit, but Cragen ordered John to use some of his accumulated vacation time to watch over Casey.

When John led Casey through the automatic doors of the hospital and heard them slide shut behind them, he could not help turning to her and smiling. She looked beautiful, one of her rare smiles on her face and the sunlight dancing in her golden hair. However, his joy turned to surprise when he saw who was waiting for them.

"Fin?" he asked incredulously as he and Casey approached the idling car in the circle drive. He had just been planning on taking a cab to Casey's apartment.

Fin jumped out of the driver's seat and came around the front of the car, opening the passenger side door. "Hey, Case," he said with a smile, taking her hand from John's and helping her situate herself in the seat while protecting her tender ribs.

"Will you fit back there?" Casey asked John as he slid in behind her. She squeezed Fin's hand in thanks.

"Oh sure, I've had many a delightful journey with perps in the cage here. And this time there's no one looking like they might try to off the cop sitting next to them."

"Good," Casey said vaguely, resting her head against the window and closing her eyes. John looked at Fin in alarm and the younger man observed Casey for a few seconds before assuring John with a placating nod that she was fine.

Fin shifted the car into drive and they pulled away from the hospital. John hoped they would never have to return, but he knew better than to actually expect it. Danger came with the job…but he still blamed himself for Casey's attack. If she had been raped, he never would have forgiven himself.

John leaned back in his seat, his eyes taking in the way Casey's hair fell over the black leather headrest, her porcelain skin, her pained and shallow breaths. He had almost lost her, and the knowledge was enough to make him shiver.

When they reached Casey's apartment, John said softly to Fin, "Is she asleep?"

Before Fin could answer, Casey said, "No," and unbuckled her seatbelt. John tried to get out of the car to help her but he could not open the door.

"Fin!" he called, rolling his eyes. It was, of course, absolutely necessary that the back doors of the police car not open from the inside to keep perps from escaping, but it presented a problem to detectives who wanted to get out and help their convalescent fiancées.

Fin came around the car, chuckling, and let John out. "Sorry, man," he said lightly.

Casey got to her feet, wincing slightly. John and Fin both lunged at her to help but she was already upright. "You guys," she said, shaking her head in amusement.

"I'll walk you up," Fin offered, and he followed the two of them to the stairs and they all began the ascent.

John walked beside Casey, offering his arm as support which she declined to take until he fixed her with a stern expression. Fin went behind them in case Casey fell, a notion that she heckled and rejected. "If you don't back off, Fin," she said jokingly, "I'm going to test your reflexes and your strength by just tipping over." She held John's arm tighter. "And I'm bringing him with me."

Fin laughed, but he did not alter his behavior. They reached Casey's apartment and she unlocked the door, leading the men inside. John's eyes immediately fell on the crumpled envelope he had hurled to the floor and he bent quickly to pick it up. "Get rid of this," he said quietly to Fin, and Fin pocketed it.

"Thanks for the ride, Fin," Casey said.

Fin looked at her for a few seconds, his expression hard to read…but John could imagine what he was thinking. As John's best friend, Fin cared deeply about Casey. "Come here," Fin said gently, wrapping his arms around Casey's shoulders. He did not hold her too tightly for fear of hurting her, but he ran his hands up and down her back. "I'm glad you're ok, baby."

"Me too."

When they did not break apart, John said wryly, "You trying to steal my girl, Tutuola?"

"Shut up, John." Fin pulled back but not before Casey kissed his cheek.

"Your place tonight?" Casey said conspiratorially but loud enough for John to hear. "I'll bring the whipped cream."

Fin grinned, shooting John a look. "Yeah, girl, I'll be there," he said to Casey, giving her one last hug. "Feel better." He went to the door, passing John who pretended to be suspicious of Fin and Casey's relationship. "Call me if you need anything," Fin said.

"What, you constantly tell me I need a new driver and then you fall all over yourself to help Casey? What's with that?"

Fin shrugged. "What can I say, man? She's hotter than you."

John smirked, opening the door for Fin. "Get out of here."

"Take it easy." He left, and John closed the door.

He turned back to Casey who looked dead on her feet. "Sit down," he ordered her. He procured a blanket from a wooden chest and waited until she was lying on the couch before he draped it over her, tucking in the edges. "Do you want me to throw in a movie or something?"

She shrugged, her eyes closed. "Whatever you want. Turn on C-SPAN so you can discover the newest threat to national security."

He obeyed and then made to sit down in the rocking chair but Casey opened her eyes and glared at him. "Get over here," she demanded, indicating the spot by her head. She sat up slightly until he was settled and then she rested her head on his thighs. "Sorry," she said, "but I don't like you far away."

He smiled somewhat sadly, taking sections of her hair and running them through his fingers. "Me neither," he admitted, watching her eyes close again as she drifted into sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: More angst. I promise there's a happy ending though!

* * *

That weekend, the detectives organized a party for all the members of the precinct and squad, including Melinda, Huang, and Casey. It was partly a holiday celebration, but everyone knew the real reason behind the festivities- it was in recognition of Casey's safe return.

All through the night, different uniforms came up to Casey and told her how glad they were that she was alright. She thanked them all, truly appreciating their concern, but what meant the most to her was being with Olivia, Elliot, Fin, Cragen, and John. It was good to see them all enjoying themselves after all the stress they dealt with day after day. Casey was never much inclined to be emotional, but after everything that had happened, being with the people she cared about was enough to keep her close to tears all night.

However, Casey could not completely let loose because something was weighing on her mind. When she could not stand it any longer, she went to Olivia and asked if they could talk.

"Of course," Olivia replied, though she looked wary. She followed Casey to a corner of the bullpen where they were out of earshot of all the others. Before Casey could say a word, Olivia hugged her and said, "We were _so_ worried about you."

"Thanks," Casey said, trying to smile. She was unsuccessful because her heart was beating so fast that it was distracting her from everything else. She leaned against the wall, folding her arms across her chest. "I have a problem," she said softly, not meeting Olivia's eyes.

"What is it?" Olivia's voice was full of worry.

"It's not that bad," Casey tried to assure her, but she stopped. "Or maybe it is. I don't know." She fell back into silence, unsure of how to start.

Olivia did not rush her, but she said, "You can tell me anything, Case."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. "Ok." She closed her eyes. "Liv…I sort of lied to John…and I'm afraid that I'm going to flinch away the next time we…." She sighed. "I don't want to hurt him," she said sadly.

Olivia grasped Casey's arm, startling her so her eyes snapped open. "Casey," she said desperately, her eyes filled with fear, "what do you mean?"

Casey regarded her. "I asked John if he raped me, and he didn't. John looked so relieved that I couldn't bring myself to tell him what _did_ happen…and now…." She shook her head.

"What did he do to you?" Casey could tell that Olivia was fighting to stay professional about the whole thing, but her eyes were shining with tears, effectively betraying her.

Casey glanced over at John who was going off about the Patriot Act to Cragen and Huang, making sure that he was not paying attention. "He just touched me…pretty much everywhere."

"Did he penetrate you?"

"Only with his fingers. It didn't hurt. He said he was going to let me anticipate being raped for a while."

Olivia put her hands on Casey's shoulders, forcing them to lock eyes. "Casey, you know that's still rape. The fact that it wasn't violent doesn't change that."

Casey nodded. "I know," she said softly. "I just…I…."

"I have to act on what you told me. He needs to be put away for kidnap, assault, and rape."

"I know." The tears that had been threatening to fall all night finally broke free and Casey slumped against the wall again. "I don't care. I just wish John didn't have to find out. Ever. I don't want to tell him and see the look on his face, but I don't trust myself not to give it away when he touches me." She fixed Olivia with a sad gaze. "He practically killed John with all of this. He hasn't said anything really, but I can tell…and this will just make it worse.

"I had no idea what a vengeful bastard Philip is. I wouldn't sleep with him and now he's made it so I can't be with John without hurting him…." She closed her eyes, shaking her head bitterly. She did not know how much more suffering John could endure.

She felt Olivia envelope her in an embrace again. "I'm sorry, Casey," Olivia whispered as Casey's tears soaked her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

After a few minutes, Casey pulled away. "I didn't mean to give you a shower," she said, offering a small smile.

Olivia smiled back. "Don't worry about it." She squeezed Casey's hand. "Wait here a second." Casey nodded and watched as Olivia walked to the table with the coffee and poured a mug. She was immediately accosted by John who had apparently noticed that Casey was crying in the corner, but Olivia shook him off with a few words. John looked over at Casey and she quickly dropped her eyes to the floor. She knew it looked suspicious, but she had no idea what else to do at the moment.

Olivia returned and handed the steaming mug to Casey, who took a sip. "Thanks." She drank in silence for a few minutes while Olivia stood there, just watching her.

"Can I give you some advice?"

Casey nodded. "Please."

"Ok, you know that John will find out about this sooner or later. Don't you think he'd rather hear it from you than Cragen or someone?"

"Yes," Casey conceded, but the mere thought of the look in his eyes if she told him was almost enough to make her cry again.

"I know it will be hard," Olivia said quickly. "And Casey…he's going to cry."

She nodded, biting her lip.

"But he'll be ok. He still has you, and nothing in the past will hurt so much that he'll forget that."

Casey chanced a glance over at John. He was talking with Elliot and Cragen, but he was much more subdued than he had been fifteen minutes before. She sighed, turning back to Olivia.

"What about the next time we have sex? I mean, it's not that I don't trust him…it's nothing like that, but…you know?"

Olivia nodded her understanding. "Tell him that. Warn him, and he'll help you. Keep your eyes open so you know it's him, and have him talk to you until you forget why you were afraid. I don't think it will take long for you to realize that it's completely different with someone who loves you."

"Ok." She drained the mug and sighed, clutching it tightly. "Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you not tell Don or anyone for a few days? I mean, it's not like there's any evidence that's going to go cold…it's just my word. And I doubt Philip will deny it if you ask him."

Olivia paused, looking troubled.

"I know it's against procedure," Casey said quickly. "Don't do it if you feel wrong about it."

The detective shook her head. "No. It's ok. I understand, and I want to do whatever will make this whole experience the easiest for you."

"Thank you."

They went back to the rest of the group and to the men they loved, but Casey's fear was only partially assuaged. She knew that, whatever Olivia said, the truth would kill John.


	15. Chapter 15

Both Casey and John were quiet on their way back to her apartment. The night that they had begun in such high spirits had turned somber and Casey inwardly cursed Weber.

John paid the cab driver and went with Casey up the stairs and to her door. She let them both in and he turned on the lights as she locked the door and threw the deadbolt. She had hardly finished when John pulled her to him and cradled her against his chest, touching his lips to the top of her head. "Are you ok, baby?" he asked her.

She could not hold back her laugh. It was a welcome feeling, like nothing had changed.

"What?" John asked curiously, pulling back slightly so he could look at her.

She shook her head. "You've been hanging out with Fin too much. 'Baby'?"

"You call me that," John replied defiantly, tightening his hold on her again.

"I know I do. It's just weird coming from you." She turned her head so she could kiss the side of his neck. "I'm going to get changed."

She removed herself from his grasp and went into her bedroom where she peeled off the black sweater she had been wearing. She did her best not to look at any of the still-healing cuts and bruises, but she could not help it. Her eyes traveled over her arms and stomach; she could still feel the intense pain and hear Weber taunting her. She took a deep, shuddering breath as she remembered his lips on the inside of her thigh as his fingers traveled higher and he dared her to fight back. She tried, of course, but she could hardly stay conscious for more than a few minutes, much less struggle.

She heard John approaching the door and quickly threw on a hooded sweatshirt and some cotton shorts, looking at herself once more just to make sure none of the marks were visible before John came in.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her shoulder and neck. "You know, you didn't answer my question before."

"What question?" She leaned into him, allowing him better access to her neck and throat.

"If you're ok."

She met his eyes in the mirror. "We need to talk," she admitted.

"Ok," he said, running his thumb along her jaw and kissing the tip of her ear. He let her go and she sat on her bed, watching him unbutton his shirt and remove his pants, pulling on a pair of sweats. He sat on what had become his side of the bed, leaning against the headboard and Casey turned to face him.

She sighed, holding her hand out for him to take. He looked afraid, but not nearly enough. Casey knew he was expecting to talk about what had happened, but he had no conception of the horrible news she had to tell him. "John," she began, "I'm so sorry that he dragged you into his grudge against me."

"He was using you to hurt me," John argued gently. "You were in the middle because I took you from him. That's what he told me."

She stared at him. "_I_ took me from him. You had nothing to do with our break-up."

"Don't you blame yourself for this."

"Take your own advice!" She took a deep breath. She and John so often started yelling at each other when they discussed any contentious topic. It was never meant unkindly; they were both just opinionated people. "Can we just agree that we're both sorry it happened?"

"Ok."

Casey tried several times to start telling him about what Weber had done to her, but every time she began forming the words the pang in her heart forced her to stop. Before she was able to speak up, John did.

His voice was full of pain Casey knew was only a prelude to how he would sound after she told him the truth. "Casey…Case…how could you think I'd forget you?"

She looked into his brown eyes that were filling with tears. She knew how deeply John Munch had to trust someone before he would cry in front of them; she was the same way. Knowing that he trusted her so unquestioningly, however, did nothing but mire her in guilt. He was trusting her with his emotions, and she was not sure when she would be able to trust him with her body again. "That's not what I meant," she said softly, regretting her wording in the note to which he was referring.

"What did you mean, Case? God, it broke my heart to think—"

"I'm sorry," she interrupted him, not wanting to hear the end of his statement. "I meant that if I didn't live, I wanted you to move on. Find happiness with someone else, but remember me."

John looked at her wordlessly for a few seconds before he got to his feet and started walking back and forth across the room. She could tell he was incredibly angry. "John," she began, but he cut her off by stopping and facing the wall, leaning his forehead against it. His shoulders were tense.

"Damn it, Casey," he finally muttered, lightly banging his fist on the wall. He stayed there for almost a minute, breathing hard, before he spun around and returned to his place on the bed. "It's you or no one for me," he said fiercely.

"John, you deserve to be happy. I would never want you to be alone for the rest of your life…."

His expression softened and he took her hand again. "I don't know what I deserve," he said quietly, his thumb brushing her fingers, "but I _want_ you and I _need_ you…even if I don't deserve you." His tone was no longer angry when he said, "Don't you dare tell me not to forget you ever again."

"Ok." She looked out the window, trying to draw strength from the beauty of the stars. "John, I…."

"Yes?"

"I need a new NYPD sweatshirt," she said quickly, immediately cursing her cowardice.

"Alright," he said, but they both knew that was not what she meant to say. He looked at her for a few minutes as her panic escalated.

"Oh, God," she murmured, burying her face in her hands. It was strange; she was not very upset about the rape as far as she was concerned. She felt violated, of course, but her worry for John overpowered any fear she felt for herself.

"_Casey_…just tell me. You already told Olivia?"

She nodded.

"Why am I so much harder to tell?"

"Because Olivia's not in love with me." She closed her eyes, dropping her hands into her lap. "Ok. John…I know the rape kit was negative for trauma and fluids and everything…but it wasn't exactly accurate." She let out a breath and opened her eyes to find John staring at her, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide.

"What are you saying?" he choked.

"He didn't do anything that would leave a mark. He just…touched me and used his fingers to…to…." She made a vague motion with her hand, indicating that he knew what she meant.

A deafening silence fell; it was John's turn to panic. He let out a short breath every few seconds but she never heard him take one in even after nearly thirty seconds had passed. His eyes were glazed over and he had stopped blinking. Tears welled in his eyes until there were too many to remain and they started trickling down his cheeks. His pale face was drawn, and she could see that he was shaking, whether from sadness or fear she did not know.

She could not stand seeing him in that much pain. She loved him more than anything and the last thing she ever wanted to do was anything that hurt him, and now her words were breaking him. The only way she finally got herself to tell him the truth was convincing herself that as a member of SVU, he would take the news in stride…but of course he did not. She was not truly surprised. She knew better than to believe that he would be able to deal with someone raping his fiancée in the same way he handled any other woman's rape. It was completely different.

Not knowing what else to do, Casey moved next to him and gathered him in her arms, stroking his hair. He did not respond to her touch for almost a full minute, but then he wrapped his arms around her back and hid his face in her shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.

"John," she whispered. "It's ok. It's ok, baby." She ran her fingertips up and down his bare back, trying desperately to soothe him. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, hating herself for causing him this much suffering, but she reminded herself that there was no way she could have kept it from him forever, nor should she. He was her fiancé, soon to be her husband. She had to tell him everything.

Casey did not realize how long she held him until she glanced at the clock and saw that it was midnight. They had started their conversation at half past ten. She pulled back slightly and looked at John. It took a moment for him to raise his eyes to hers, and she saw how red they were. "Want to go to bed?" she asked gently, caressing his cheek.

"Ok." They pulled back the covers and got into bed. Casey turned the switch on the lamp, casting them into darkness. She heard John say, "Casey, can I…?"

She did not know what he was talking about for a second, but then she understood. He wanted to hear her breathe, to rest his head on her chest. It was a request he often made after cases that particularly bothered him. Her rhythmic breathing always comforted him that she was alive and safe. "Of course," she said, holding her arms out for him.

"It won't hurt you?"

She knew that it might, but she could not have cared less. "No." She lay flat on her back and waited until John moved into her embrace and laid his head on her breast. His clenched hands finally relaxed when Casey ran her fingers through his hair, though he was still trembling. "Go to sleep," she whispered. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he said so softly she could hardly hear him.


	16. Chapter 16

Casey woke the next morning to find John propped up on his elbow, looking down at her. "Hey," she said, sitting up and crossing her legs. "How are you?"

He sighed. "I don't know, Casey. I've never been such a mixture of angry as hell, sad as hell, and happy as hell that you are ok. For the most part. How are you holding up?"

"I know it sounds strange, but I really am ok. I'm more concerned about you than me."

"That's sweet," John said, stroking her face, "but worrisome."

"I know." She looked at him. "While we're getting everything out in the open, I want you to know that if I…don't react well the next time we have sex…well, it's nothing against you."

"I understand."

"You do?"

He reached out and began tracing her foot and ankle. "As much as a man can, I guess. There's a certain submission inherent in sex for women…even if you consent, we're still invading your bodies, and if it happens without your permission…I can just imagine how hard it would be to trust again."

Casey shook her head. "It's not about _trust_, John…it's…it's like muscle memory or something."

"Alright." He got to his feet and offered her his hands, pulling her up and holding her close. "I'm so sorry, Casey. I hate that he did this to you."

"Me too."

He rocked her back and forth for a few minutes, unaware of the war raging in her head. She was trying to determine the first step toward being with John again, and she finally knew what it was.

"Let's take a shower," she said, extricating herself from his arms. He nodded without a word and she knew by the look in his eyes that he understood what she was doing.

They went into the bathroom and began shedding their clothes, dropping them to the floor. As soon as Casey removed her sweatshirt she averted her eyes, but she forced herself to look at John.

He was staring at her, taking note of every injury Weber had inflicted. His eyes shone with intense sadness, but he did not say a word. He slid back the door to the shower and turned on the spray, waiting for Casey to enter before going in himself.

Casey closed her eyes, letting the hot water pour over her. After adjusting to it for a moment, she nodded at John. She heard him move toward her and felt his fingertips on the inside of her wrist. He held her arm with one hand while the other hand's fingers gently caressed her, not neglecting a single bruise or cut.

She finally managed to open her eyes and keep them that way, watching John's cautious journey over the signs of her beating. The tenderness in his eyes was enough to put her at ease and she felt some of the tension she had been holding on to slip away. He reached for her other arm, giving it the same treatment, before he moved his hands to her abdomen.

He carefully rubbed his palms over her slick skin, lifting his eyes to meet hers. She bit her lip when he brushed her more tender bruises but she did not ask him to stop. The pain was good; it connected them somehow.

His hands continued their journey over her body, but there was nothing sexual about the act. It was simply comfort, trying to reassert the familiarity and trust that the two of them had shared for so long and planned to share for the rest of their lives.

John's right hand came to rest over Casey's heart as his left ran up and down her back, feeling the welts along her spine that were finally beginning to heal. Casey stepped toward him and pressed herself against him, leaning her head on his chest and holding onto his biceps. The sound of his heart beating in her ear was better than the most beautiful music and she let out a breath that sent goose bumps across John's skin.

"Thank you," she whispered as her fiancé encircled her completely in his arms, her head under his chin.

"Anything for you," he said back, not even attempting to break their connection and get on with their lives. They simply stood, naked flesh against naked flesh, the steam rolling off their bodies.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Last chapter! I know it's really short, but it's just an epilogue of sorts. I hope you enjoyed the story, and of course I'd appreciate your feedback! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Just FYI, I'm working on a new JC story and I'm mixing it up by making John the one in danger. Because one of them has to be. The worrying is so cute! I'm not sure if it's vain of me to fall in love with John as I write about him...haha, but that's how it goes. Thank you!

* * *

Casey was right about Weber; he did not deny what he did to her, but he was shocked to learn that his actions were considered to be rape. Olivia did not want to tell Casey about the interrogation but she eventually gave in and admitted that the most disturbing part was that Weber was openly disappointed that he was being charged for rape; he did not consider what he did to Casey to be rape. It was, in his words, "like only getting two dollars worth of something when you pay ten."

Cragen would not let John participate in the questioning, not after his attempt on Weber's life in the ambulance. He instead spent the day doing paperwork and shooting glances over at the room where Elliot and Olivia were taking Weber's statement. Weber smiled broadly at John as he was escorted out of the precinct and the pencil the detective was holding snapped in half.

The only positive event of the day was that Casey returned to the doctor for a check-up and was told that her ribs were healed enough that she could return to her regular activities. She was desperate to get back to work; idleness did not sit well with her, and it never had. She was bored out of her mind after so long resting in her apartment.

John crossed the threshold with a bouquet of flowers in his hand which he handed to Casey, kissing her cheek. "Back to kicking ass tomorrow," he said with a smile and she shrugged.

"It's what I do," she joked. She took the flowers into the kitchen and it took John a moment to realize what she was wearing. He hurried after her and stopped dead, his heart pounding. She was in sweats and running shoes.

"Casey," he began, fear evident in his tone.

She turned to him, leaning against the counter. "John, I'm allowed to do whatever I want now. I haven't been running in forever."

He sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Can I just buy you a treadmill?"

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist and kissing his lips. "I promise I don't have any more psychotic ex-boyfriends."

"You didn't think you had _any _psychotic ex-boyfriends."

"Fine. I don't have any more ex-boyfriends."

"Impossible. Please, Casey. I'm not trying to hover, but it's just so soon…."

She regarded him for a few minutes and he saw that she was considering something difficult. She finally smiled. "I know another way I could expend some of this energy…burn some calories."

John stared at her. He did not want to rush her. "Case, if this is too fast, that's fine. We can wait."

"No, it's ok. Just…." She took his face between her hands and kissed his eyelids, his cheeks, and his mouth. "Just make me forget," she whispered against his lips.


End file.
